Pragma
by gaymariarobotnik
Summary: Through the hurt and the rush of battle, the lies and years of waiting, you still find that ever familiar, ever known comfort; that poetically correct love.


_The waves on Kholusia's shore were so much calmer than the ones washing up on the Ruby Tithe. _The warrior noted this as the water just barely brushed his sea soaked boots. He smelled of salt, his undone hair sticking to his face unceremoniously from the unkind current. The Scions had swam all the way back, and it was pretty well as tiring as Alphinaud had made it out to be. He didn't blame him for collapsing in contact with land. This was simply one of the few things he tuned in to however, as his thoughts were colliding against each other in his brain; feelings like confusion and stress and fear ever pulled at every thought.

He was exhausted.

Watching the waves was all he could do, though even still, this had proved difficult. The last time he'd done this wasn't long after the calamity. _After he'd lost his family_. He couldn't save anything, couldn't change anything, had nothing left. So he just watched the waves.

He had more now than he did then, but for some reason, he still felt...scared. Unsure.

He had had a feeling for the longest time that the Exarch was truly G'raha. He wanted to believe his gut feeling, that he knew that voice, those lips, that smile, but his self doubt would always be the worst part of him. He had known that small moment before they scaled Mt Gulg, and yet he _still _said nothing. He didn't believe he could have something that felt so right to him come true. Of course fate would only reward him with such a reassurance while he was giving his life.

And even still, they had both lived another day. His pale eyes flickered over to the Exarch, sitting himself back on the sand and seeming to be lost in thought himself, or perhaps that was a side effect from being away from the tower for far too long. They probably felt just about the same in that moment. He could tell as soon as they'd reached the edge of the Tempest. The warrior had had to carry him on his back, and even if his fatigue hadn't gotten the best of him, he would have done it anyways. He'd never seen a man aside from himself walk his injuries off as well as he did.

He was jolted from his thoughts as a hand gently placed itself on his shoulder, turning curiously to see Ryne staring down at him, her hands clasped over her chest, azure eyes full of worry.

"Are you feeling well, A'tali? I sensed something...off." She observed, a hand coming to her chin in thought. So she could sense his unease now. He supposed that was only fair, considering the light no longer burned inside of him. Though realizing she might've been intruding on his seclusion, her eyes were quick to soften in apology.

"W-which is obviously why you're taking a moment for yourself! I apologize, I was just worried-"

The Oracle was halted as the warrior took her hand, a tired, but gentle smile forming on his lips as he met her gaze. It was as if everyone knew but her that she was merely a child still. She was allowed to have childlike behaviors, and even still, this was hardly one of them. She was ever kind and empathetic, all heroes tended to be.

"No need for apologies. That was quite thoughtful of you to check in on me. Though I'll be alright, there's just...a bit to think about. I promise I'll be settled in a moment."

This seemed to calm her, that childlike worry in her eyes softening as she placed her other hand over his; a simple last reassurance. He appreciated her presence more than she knew.

It was then that Thancred had called her over, and he could hear talk of them arranging a ride back, as there was no way they were carrying Alphinaud all the way to the Crystarium. He managed a laugh, and nodded in assurance to take her leave. Ever spritely as she was, she hurried herself back over to her found guardian, presumably letting him know that he was alright. He knew Thancred worried about him behind all of his newfound stoic demeanor. They had always been close.

The warrior decided then that if they were to be heading back soon, he would do one last thing, privately. Through his ringing head and burning chest, he managed the small walk over to where Thancred, Y'shtola and G'raha were conversing, holding himself more than he figured, as the two older Scions looked to him in concern.

"Should we be going then? You look awful." Ever the honest one, Thancred was, and it near brought a smile to A'tali's face. At least he could always count on him not to pity his condition. Perhaps that was why he liked him so much. In truth, he absolutely felt like shit, but he had to save his energy for now.

"In a moment. If you all would make the arrangements and assure the poor Chais of our triumphant return, I would speak with our friend here ere I do much more."

He almost noticed the miqo'te sitting on the shore perk up at the slight mention, as if he knew he was to be confronted by the other. Even through his mass drain of energy did he stumble when the warrior spoke of him.

Before he did anything, however, he watched the Scions take their leave, Thancred having to hoist Alphinaud over his shoulder, as the boy remained unconscious. Oh the stories that would elicit upon his awakening…

_They were alone then, and he hardly knew where to start_. G'raha had averted his gaze, his eyes lazily watching the sunrise reflecting off of the waves.

"Exarch, May I?"

It was spoken with uncertainty, as he had no idea where they currently stood with each other. _Did he want to welcome him as an old friend, or had he wished to keep his identity a secret? Did he no longer wish to burden him with his friendship any longer? _The warrior would respect whatever he wanted, but he was to tread carefully.

And on the other hand, the casually spoken title was enough to worry the Exarch. It was much different than the heartfelt cry of "Good Morning, Raha" that he'd received earlier. Perhaps that short moment had passed, just as everything else might have for them. He gave a simple nod in return, watching the warrior seemingly collapse on the sand out of the corner of his eye.

"...you've been away from the tower for some time now. Will you be able to make the trek back to the Crystarium?"

By the look on his face, A'tali knew he couldn't, but he wasn't much one to admit that. He was recovering from a bullet wound and still he would walk on. How he did it, the warrior never knew.

"I shall be fine. Whatever I cannot carry, my staff can support. I assure you, I can handle most things." It was a lie, but only one to lift a weight off his shoulders. _Sure, just like everything else he'd fed the warrior for the past month. It was getting easier, wasn't it?_

There was silence for a long moment, only the movement of A'tali's knees being pulled to his chest was heard, and they simply sat there, taking in the moment, that they wouldn't have something like this for who knew how long.

"...I understand if you would choose to be upset with me. I have not been the most honest or open person…" the Exarch began, but he quickly stopped himself as the warrior shifted against the sands, a seemingly long inhale lifting his chest.

"I understand why you did what you did. It takes courage to hide such a delicate plan from someone such as I, and you sought it out to near perfection. I could not be upset with the choices you made, as you've always decided the right path for yourself, as I told you to do so all those years ago. If that was what you chose then...I would accept it." There was a brief pause, a small jolt in his chest, and G'raha worried for a moment that his affliction from the light had returned. He learned only soon after what had caused it.

He had been weeping.

His pale eyes shone brightly against the sunrise and he could see those silent tears trickling down his cheeks. _How many times had he cried so silently like this? That the rest of the world wouldn't hear their warrior break?_

"...Tali…" he probably hadn't the slightest permission to refer to him as such, but he barely cared in that moment. They were both so exhausted.

That was all it took though, as the warrior turned to wrap his arms around the Exarch's shoulders, his face buried against the crystal cuffing his neck. Despite the cold, saltiness of the sea still invading their every senses, A'Tali merely wished to be near him, to hold him.

"...I respect your choices...but gods I've missed you...and you can call me whatever you'd like; selfish, stubborn, idiotic...but I've missed you all the same and I would only wish to see you standing here, by my side."

He hardly knew how to react, what to say. His brain was buzzing with the reminder from the tower that he'd strayed too far, he could hardly focus on his words had it not been for his stubborn want to hear him. All he could do in that moment was gently clutch the fabric of his shirt with his non crystal hand, tears of his own trailing down his cheeks.

"..then if that is what you wish, I shall remain by your side, that I owe you much and more…"

His voice was hoarse now, barely a whisper as they sat on the shore, simply holding one another. It had been so long...so very long since they could just exist near each other. They would have this moment, as they both were prepared for it to not last much longer.

—

The warrior of darkness and the Exarch were never spotted at the Crystarium's festivities later that night. In fact, the last time anyone had seen them, they had been walking along with the Captain of the guard, hastily escorting them inside the tower. The Scions had assured them not to worry, as the time for worrying had come to pass, the Captain was merely concerned for their health. In the end, they were simply pleased to know that the warrior had kept his promise, and returned their leader home safely. _If only he knew how deeply important he was to them, that they would be thrown into such discomfort at his absence._

Crossing the threshold to his private chambers, they had been left alone, Lyna respectfully smiling to the warrior as she took her leave. A'Tali liked her; always keeping guard, always loyal to her duty, but there was also something playful and caring underneath that he would see be brought to light one of these days. Perhaps that was possible now.

He thought of this, as he carefully set the Exarch down against his bed. He was hardly conscious, though he still held onto that last bit -like a child waiting up during Starlight- so that he wouldn't miss a moment next to his inspiration.

Lazily did he watch A'tali pull a now dried handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing it with some form of liquid dripping from a bottle from his side pouch. He would heal him properly, but there was no point in doing so if he still remained dirty.

He kicked off his boots then, sitting himself on the bed and leaning over the exarch. There was hardly a wince as the cloth was pressed to the corner of his lips; he was seemingly too drained to care. He supposed it wouldn't make this too hard then. The blood cleaned away easily, and the warrior's hand brushed back his bangs to get a better look at the wound cut into his forehead. It was deeper than the one below, and he wondered how in the seven hells he'd walked this off when it was fresh. He truly was a wonder…

Cautiously, he cleaned around the gash, feeling a bit of tension as he noticed G'raha's grip on the bedsheets. _So he had been feeling this. He almost felt bad now, but he knew it had to be done. _There wouldn't be any risk of infection before they could see someone about it.

When he finished, he set the cloth aside, removing the sleeve on his left hand and holding it focused over the wound. It had been quite some time since he'd healed anyone but himself, but he was determined to ease the other man's mind. If it meant he could wake up without the pain of a few injuries, it would put him at ease. He could feel the familiar pull of aether at the palm of his hand, spinning him lightheaded in his already drained state. He could feel the wound closing, and he knew he was never ready for how that felt. Mayhap that was why he took to the sword instead, the feeling of torn flesh at his fingertips always had him nauseous.

When his hand fell away, he chanced a look to the Exarch, who was seemingly asleep below him, and he smiled. _It was all over now. They could both properly rest._

Yet his hand worriedly found its way to his chest, gracing the crystal that supposedly lined it under the fabric of his robes. He wondered how durable it was, whether it could withstand a bullet or if it would tear right through, as it would any other body.

"M'alright...it...protects…" the Exarch mumbled softly, as if he knew his exact thoughts in that moment. He couldn't blame him for worrying, he knew of his friend who had fallen to a similar wound. That tale had always pained him, written by a grieving father who remained hopeful in the shadow of his late son. No, he would not allow himself to fall to such a thing, but A'tali didn't know this. He hardly knew anything about him now.

He had stopped his tracing then, figuring if he'd even located the chipped crystal, he would have worried himself further into a fit trying to fix it. The tower would probably heal him anyways.

Giving in to his fatigue, he removed his other sleeve, laying himself back against the plush mattress and pulling the Exarch to his chest. He could hardly protest, whether it was due to his drain or otherwise, he needn't care. A hand came up to brush back his hair, undoing his pesky braid before moving to massage his ears; _how poorly they must've been treated over the years, pressed against his head so tightly._ He wouldn't have that anymore. He could tell that the Exarch enjoyed this, a faint purr emanating from his chest as he barely nuzzled closer. He was calm. _They were calm. _

They slept like so for nearly three days, hardly caring to wake one another in their blissful rest.

_The First would finally know peace. Our heroes spared no shortage of it._


End file.
